Playing Gay
by FAnimator661
Summary: Back when I was fourteen, I told my parents I was gay so they'd stop harassing me about boys. That was four years ago, and now they want to meet my fake girlfriend. And so begins the longest web of lies ever spun by a human being . . . with one truth.
1. The Beginning of the End

I'm not proud of what I do. I'll admit it. Many people have things they're not proud of. Mine just happens to be . . . my entire life.

Because it's a lie.

My name is Kayla. Kayla Johnson. I promise you I'm nothing too spectacular. I'm a blue-eyed brunette, a little on the short side, and have a nasally voice. I guess we all have something we hate about ourselves, and mine is most definitely my voice. But, I'm getting off topic.

My tale is long, and twisted, and confusing, and very, _very_, stressful. I don't know where exactly it happened, but I know where everything began. It's where most children's lives are forever ruined: Puberty.

When I first turned thirteen, my parents had constantly been asking me about me liking boys. Okay, so maybe my mom more than my dad, but they still both asked enough for me to become so annoyed with it that I did what I did. I guess that's what all teens do after they hit puberty: begin to get annoyed very easily with their parents. In hindsight, maybe if I had just told them what they wanted to hear, this whole mess wouldn't have started. But, there would probably be just as many lies for that than I already have now.

Anyway, the day it all began was when I came home from school when I was about fourteen. I came through the door and threw my bags on the couch and collapsed on the adjacent chair, sighing in relief. School had always been boring for me. It just never really tickled my fancy like it did some other kids. Nerds, weaklings, intellectually advanced, whatever you wanted to call them.

After I lifted myself off the green couch and slowly shuffled into the kitchen, I pulled out my phone and began texting my then bestfriend, Meghan Tray. Me and Meghan had been friends ever since pre-school. Another thing that would have been less messy had I thought my actions through.

"Kayla, is that you?" I heard my mom call down to me.

I was almost reluctant to answer. I knew the tone of voice she used. It was the dreaded 'Boy Talk' voice. Then again, I'd get it even worse if she found out I was here and didn't answer her. Then I'd get the talk _and_ grounded for a week. "Yeah, mom," I called up, not looking up from my phone. "It's me."

I think she almost fell down the stairs she ran so fast. But of course, when she came into view in the brightly lit kitchen, not a hair was out of place or a piece of cloth wrinkled. She was wearing her favorite outfit: a blue and orange billowy shirt and beige pants. I always thought back then she was perfect, but I was wrong about a lot of things back then.

"So, Meghan tells me there's a boy at school you like," She said right off the bat. Another thing about my mother that stands true: she's very blunt and doesn't like to beat about the bush. "What's his name? Does he play any sports? Where does he live? What's-,"

Questions came a mile a minute and I didn't have time to answer any of them before another one was put in front of me. I was trying to keep my eyes away from her, adverting her from the hatred that practically seethed from them. I slammed my phone shut and looked up at her. For an added measure, I put on my best fake pout.

"There's no boy mom," I said. My first lie in a twisted web of millions. "I promise."

"I think you're lying. I can see right through your fake pout." Damn, she was good.

"I'm not lying, mom, there's really no boy," I said.

"Come on, Kayla," She said, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "You keep telling us there are no boys in your school that you like. Is there someone outside of school, because that's perfectly fine."

"I promise, mom, no boys. I want to focus on my school work."

"You already don't do your homework anyway. I have to beg you to get it done." She drawled. "Just tell me who he is."

"There is no 'he,'" I insisted.

"Tell me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Tell me."

"Mom! There's no freaking boy!"

"Tell-,"

"MOM." I cut her off. "There is no boy. I don't know why that's so hard to understand."

"Kayla, all girls your age like boys. Just tell me who you like!" She huffed.

Now, you all would've done it at this point. You would've lied and gushed about this fake boy in your grade that you have a major crush on and how perfect he was. Then, whenever your parents asked about him again, he moved away or died or something concrete like that. But no, I had to make it completely difficult. Of course I panicked and I didn't even know what came out of my mouth until my mother repeated it to me.

"Mom, I don't have a boy I like because I'm gay." I said, eyes wide.

I didn't think eye could fly out of a person's head that fast. We were silent for a moment. I was fiddling with the phone in my hand and she was looking at like I'd grown a seventh head. She took a deep breathe and found a towel to occupy her hands with.

"You don't like boys." She repeated. "Okay . . . okay. That's . . . okay."

"Is it?" I asked. I decided to run with it. Hell, I didn't think there was a way out of it at that point.

"It's okay." She said again. "It's better than okay, it's wonderful! I'm so glad you decided to finally come out." She smiled at me.

"I'm happy you're happy." I said through grit teeth. "I'm just gonna go upstairs and do some homework."

"Of course you are." My mom said as she turned to the stove and began to prepare dinner.

As soon as she turned around I scurried to my room quiet and panic-stricken. I closed my door quietly and began to pace across the floor as I mumbled incoherently to myself.

"What am I going to do?" I repeated under my breathe to myself. I'll admit, I thought it was the end of the world. But then, it struck me. I stopped pacing and stood completely still, which allowed my thoughts unfold in front of me.

If my parents thought I was gay, then they'd never ask me anymore annoying questions about boys. No more talks, no more Q&A sessions, no more death threats towards any boy that comes within twenty yards of me. No more! Not to mention, I think it'd be far too awkward for them to ask if I liked any girls. I'm sure they'd rather burn to death.

I rubbed my hands together as I sat on the edge of my bed. I rested my elbows on my knees, smiling behind my fingers. It was then I realized it was the perfect cover up. If I pretended to be gay, I could date any boy I wanted.

At the thought, images of Luke Grayson flooded my head. Just thinking of him made me giggle as I fell back onto my bedspread. Luke was without a doubt the most beautiful boy I'd ever laid eyes on. I had a major crush on him back then, and I did all throughout high school, until I pretended to have a crush on him. But, I'm getting a head of myself again.

Luke was . . . perfect. At least I used to think so. He had dark blonde hair and blue eyes that bordered stormy-gray in various amounts of light. His hair was almost always spiked in the front, and only high lighted his soft, yet angular features. He had perfect teethe and was tall.

God, I used to think I loved him. Good thing I was wrong about that one.


	2. My Life As A Closet Straight

That was how it all started: one little white lie to stop the harassment from my parents. Okay, so maybe saying I was gay wasn't a little white lie, but you get the idea. Then I spent four boy-talk free years. I dated and my parents were none the wiser. I told them I was dating some girl who didn't really exist, but like I had predicted, they didn't ask me anything about "her".

I thought life couldn't get any better.

Then, only a week before Senior Prom, it happened.

I was in the process of shoving books into my bag from my locker when I heard a deep voice behind me speak.

"Hey, Kayla," I turned to see Luke standing there. He was wearing a gray and black long sleeve, jeans, and shoes that were obviously too big for his feet. He was nervous, I could tell. The way he was on the balls of his feet, and his arm was stretched behind his head and the way he looked past me and at my locker. "I was wondering, if, you know, you're not busy or anything tomorrow, maybe you'd like to go to the bonfire with me." He scuffed his feet against the floor and looked at me with bright, blue eyes.

I almost fainted. I would've fallen over for sure if I hadn't already been leaning against the rows of lockers. I was running the entire conversation through my head again just to make sure I'd heard him correctly. Luke Grayson, the linebacker on the football team, had just asked me out on a date to the bonfire after the game. I blinked twice, making sure he was really there still. He was still looking at me, expectantly.

"I'd love to go to the bonfire with you, Luke." I said. I mentally thanked god that I didn't stutter.

"Cool." Luke said, nodding as he stepped back into the crowd of students. He gave a nervous and relieved laugh as he stumbled forward and disappeared in the crowd.

I bit my lip and grabbed the rest of my books in a frenzy. I hurried down the hallway and to the locker room. I burst through the doors, which caused everyone inside to jump in surprise.

"Jesus, Kay," My friend, Jordyn, said as she grabbed the area of her shirt above her heart. She widened her hazel-green eyes in a dramatic fashion as she looked at me. "I think you just gave me a heart attack."

"Well, I've just had three." I said excitedly. "Luke Grayson just asked me out."

I'll admit it, I squealed. Thankfully, Jordyn did too.

"He did?" Beth asked, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. Her dark eyes were inquisitive, but all knowing.

"He did!" I gushed. I couldn't contain my excitement. "He wants us to go to the bonfire after the game tomorrow. Oh, I can't wait!"

"Sounds fun." My third friend, Alex said, stumbling out of the changing stall. She wrestled with the curtain as she threw it away in a huff. "But I thought we were all going together. You know, to hang out?"

"I know, Alex, and I'm really sorry." I said, my face apologetic. "But it's Luke! You know, the linebacker! And he wants to go on a date, with me!"

"It's fine." Alex said as she shoved her clothes into her gym bag. "I'm sure Jordyn, Beth, and I will have tons of fun . . . without you." She added the last part with fake sorrow. We all laughed.

We were silenced by the door swinging open. A tall girl dressed in jeans, black and white over shirt with the buttons undone, and a light gray v-neck shirt led a group of other students inside the locker room. My friends and I shrugged at each other as she marched into a stall, changed, and marched back out, water bottle in hand. We finished changing ourselves and trotted out the door, prepared for yet another soccer practice.

By the time we'd changed and gotten outside, the sun had already set. The sky was painted various hues of orange and pink, causing the clouds to turn and angry purple. Beth, Jordyn, Alex, and I said our goodbyes before parting ways to our cars. I approached mine, noticing it was parked next to a mysterious black car. The trunk was open and various sounds of frustration could be heard from inside. By the time I'd gotten to my car, the person pulled free of the trunk and shut it.

"Having some trouble?" I asked, laughing a little.

The girl turned to me, inquisitive blue eyes beaming brightly from black-brown hair. "Not really. Just a huge load of junk in there. Too many cases and bags."

"Oh." I smiled. "I don't think I've seen you before. Are you new here?"

"Yeah." She said, leaning against the trunk. "I came here for my senior year. Guess I'm just really unnoticeable." She laughed. "I'm Blake. Blake August."

"I'm Kayla Johnson." I told her. "I'm a senior, too. Have you really been here all year?"

"Yep." Blake said, digging into her pocket for her keys. "I just haven't really been to any social events. I just don't know anybody yet."

"Are you going to tomorrow's bonfire?" I asked hopefully. "Never mind, you _are_ going to the bonfire tomorrow. I'm sure my friends would love to show you around."

"The bonfire?" She stretched a hand up to her neck, holding it there. "I'd love to, thanks for the offer. But I have work that day."

"You can't take one day off?"

"Nope." Blake said, tapping her hand on the trunk. "Not one day. If I do, I'll be able to drive the car I can't pay for to the job I don't have." She pushed off from the car and walked around, heading for one of the side entrances to the school.

"You're staying here?"

"No, I'm going to get my bone head of a brother." Blake said. "Football practice should be over, and I told him I'd give him a ride home." She stopped at the door, waving at me. "See you around, Kayla. Thanks for the offer, and I'm sorry I can't make it."

"That's fine." I said, oddly disappointed. "I'll see you."

Blake disappeared inside the doorway, her footsteps fading on the linoleum floor of the school. I shoved my own bag inside the car before I drove off.

As soon as the bell rang and was followed by three knocks, I knew they were here. I almost died as I tripped over a shoe while running to the door and throwing it open. Jordyn, Beth, Alex, and I all yelled 'HEYYY!' like we always did whenever we arrived at someone's house. They hurried inside and wasted no time in making themselves comfortable. We all practically lived at each other's houses.

We ran upstairs and crammed into my room, closing the door shut. Like me, my room is nothing special. It's faded purple with white trim and a ton of posters and pictures hung up everywhere. There were three window, only two of which had curtains. You're average, ordinary teenage bedroom.

Immediately, we all went to work picking out clothes for the bonfire. I held up a top, but threw it away with a hint of disgust. I turned, distraught, to the others.

"Guys, I need to find the perfect outfit for my date with Luke." I whined, pouting a bit. There was an awkward moment of silence, but then we all burst out into laughter.

"Don't worry," Beth said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. "We'll make sure you look perfect for Mr. Linebacker." She pulled us all into a huddle and began talking in her generic guy voice. "Alright team! We have to help Kayla find the perfect outfit for her date with Luke! Jordyn, I want you to go wide and look for tops! Alex, take the deep run and look for pants! Kayla, I want you to look at shoes!" We all nodded.

"Hey, wait, what are you doing?" Alex asked, furrowing her eyebrow.

"I will be supervising!"

"Like hell you will be!"

"Fine!" Beth said. "I'll look at accessories! A-and, break!"

Laughing, we all scattered around the room, looking in various piles for the items of clothing we were assigned to.

It all ended when we each crashed inside my room. Beth was laying across the floor, a shirt strewn over her face most likely as a joke from Jordyn, who was curled up with a pair of pants. Alex was huddled in the massive pile of shirts, barely recognizable from a certain distance. I lay across my bed, comforter thrown to the floor and sheets strewn about in a mess. But it was well worth it.

I had the perfect outfit for my date with Luke. Or so I thought.


	3. The Bonfire Incident

"KAYLA!" My mom shouted for the umpteenth time. She shoved the door open with much difficulty, sweeping aside a giant mountain of clothes. She stared in horror at the messy room before she broke into a smile. "Kayla, it's ten o'clock."

"Two more hours." Beth murmured, pushing the shirt off her face and rolling away from the sunlight that poured into the room.

"Ten is way too early, mom." I groaned, rolling over of my bed. I pulled a pillow over my face and groaned again as she pulled the curtains open on one of the windows.

"Ten is not too early," She disagreed, opening the other curtain. "Is that Alex?"

"That's me!" Alex raised her hand from the gigantic mound of clothing.

"You girls are too funny," My mom laughed. "I was afraid she wouldn't have anymore friends like you after she came out-,"

"MOM!" I screamed, jumping off the bed and shoving her out the door. "Why don't you go downstairs and start breakfast or something! Be down in a few, bye!" I slammed the door shut and pressed myself against it, making sure she left.

Jordyn jolted upright, flinging a pair of shorts off her shoulder. She look grumpily at me. "What's with all the screaming?"

"Jesus, Kay," Alex said, rubbing her eyes. "Where's the fire?"

"What was that about?" Beth asked, stretching out. "'After you came out?' What's that mean?"

"It's nothing." I said quickly, which was probably a bad idea. They all looked at me like I'd changed color overnight.

"You're a bad liar, you know that, right?" Jordyn yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

"I'm not lying." I said quickly and bit my lip.

"You are too," Alex fell back onto the floor, her knees bent in the air. "You always talk fast when you're lying."

Damn, maybe I'm not as sneaky as I used to think. "It's nothing, really."

"Yeah, right," Beth said. "That's why you're hiding from us. C'mon, Kay, we always share secrets."

I looked from each of their faces to the next. These were the people I'd trusted after my other friends had abandoned me. These were the people who'd trusted me for the past three years, and vice versa. I swallowed hard, still ambivalent about weather or not I could share this with them. They all looked hopeful, and it just crushed my spirit.

"You swear not to tell anyone?"

They all nodded, their faces all suddenly serious looking. They inched closer, as if they feared as much as I did someone else would hear.

"Okay, so back in like freshman year or something like that," I began, taking a deep breathe. "I told my parents I was gay so they wouldn't pressure me into telling them about boys I liked. I figured that if I told them that, I could date whoever I want." I flinched, as if one of them would hit me.

They were all silent, their brows furrowed in thought. Beth raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Holy crap, you're a genius." She smiled.

They all laughed. I felt myself force out small, nervous, fake laughs. My lips curled nervously.

"Really, though." Beth said between laughs. "Honestly, do you think parents would ever be comfortable asking about your _girlfriend?_"

"How did you manage to make them let you play on the soccer team?" Alex asked.

"I told them all the girls on the team were ugly . . . no offense, guys." We all laughed.

"Well, as long as you feed me, you can insult me all you want." Alex said, getting to her feet. We all laughed again.

The cool, night air was twinged with dew. Orange flames licked hungrily as heat emanated from the blazing fire. Hundreds of students were crowded around it. The grass of the field beneath was slippery, but nobody cared. The crowd was buzzing with life as the band on stage was preparing for their show. The lead singer, guitar strapped over their shoulder, stepped up to the microphone.

"_Testing, testing, _

_1, 2, 3, 4!_

_You've got me poppin' champagne._

_I'm at it again._

_Caught up in a moment, but not in the right way._

_I'm falling in between, tearing up at the seams._

_We're just aiming to please, and aesthetics don't hurt one bit!_"

Luke and I were standing at the edge of the crowd, watching the flames dance before our eyes. I had worn a cute top, but you couldn't see it under his leather football jacket. He had one arm around my shoulders, which was supposedly keeping me 'warm'. How cheesy. He was wearing a black long sleeve and a pair of jeans.

"I'm really glad you decided to come with me," Luke said. "I was really afraid you were going to say no." He gave a nervous laugh that made me smile.

"I'd never say that to you," I said.

"Well, it's just . . . I've liked you for a really long time." He admitted, keeping his focus on the fire. "And . . . I don't think I would've known how to react if you rejected me."

"Would you have cried?" I joked.

"No!" He smiled, speaking in a fake, deeper voice. "Men don't cry!"

I laughed, even though his impression was horrible. We were silent for a moment, listening to the music of the band. It was upbeat and lifting. Just watching the dark silhouettes of the band jumping around in the shadows, I could tell they were really enjoying themselves.

"_So follow me down._

_Take this all the way, anyway you want to!_

_Why don't you say so?_

_I think I'm caught in between._

_The night and days fly by when I'm lost on the streets._

_And my eyes, they despise you for who I am. _

_(Why don't you say so? Why don't you say so?)_

_Give up and let go. I'm just a boy with a dream._

_And you can take one look as I fall in between. _

_With my eyes just as wide as my mouth can be._

_(Why don't you say so? Why don't you say so!)"_

"They're really good." I said. I really thought they were. Their voices and instruments were so full of energy.

"Maybe if they played some good music." Luke said, his voice confident and cocky. "This stuff stinks." He picked up his half full water bottle, weighing it in his hands. "Hey! Why don't you play something here people like!" He threw the water bottle as hard as he could towards the dark shadows.

The feedback blasted through the darkness. Voices scrambled as a low groan echoed over the field. Voices faded in and out over the microphone. One voice was groggy and disoriented, but filled with rage, while the other was soothing and calm.

"Is the . . . okay . . .?" The static interrupted the speech.

"Is . . . what . . . okay?"

"I asked if the guitar was okay!" The anger filled voice echoed loudly.

"It's fine!" The calm voice said. "Relax. You got hit pretty hard."

"Alright you jock asshole!" The anger filled voice shouted. A shadow leaped off the stage and was headed towards the fire. It was headed right for Luke and I. "Come here so I can smash that pretty boy face of your's!"

"What'd you say to me you little punk!" Luke strode across the field, heading towards the shadow. "We'll see who's going to be smashing who's face when I come over there!"

"Luke!" I said, scrambling to my feet and catching up to him. I grabbed his arm, but he didn't stop moving forward. "What are you doing?"

"He's doing what all High School football players do!" The shadow shouted, pushing forward, the light almost illuminating their face. "Acting like complete fuck heads! You're the only ones on the fucking planet, right!"

"I'll kill you, you little bastard!" Luke lunged forward.

"Little!" The shadow shouted. Others were converging around it. "I'm taller than you, stupid!"

"Woah!" The calm voice said as a shadow darted forward. The fire illuminated angry, icy eyes and jet black hair. "Blake, relax!" A boy with light blue eyes and blonde hair said as he held the angered teen by the arms with the help of four others. "Just let him go!"

"Blake!" I said, pushing past Luke and stepping forward.

Blake's eyes went wide as she saw me. Her tanned skin looked pale in the combined moonlight and firelight, a single, bright crimson streak tricking down her temple. She looked at the ground, trying to hide it, and pulled free from the others. She stalked off into the shadows, hands in her pockets and mumbling angrily under her breathe.

"Slater." Luke said, nodding at the blonde boy. "Tell your sister to watch her step."

"Luke." The boy, Slater, regarded him shakily. "In all defense, you did hit her with a water bottle . . ."

"Was that blood!" I asked, stunned. I watched the spot where Blake had disappeared. I didn't wait for an answer and began to walk in the direction she'd left. Luke was shouting something at me, but I didn't hear him. "Blake?" I asked softly.

"What?" The exasperated answer came from behind. Blake was sitting on the corner of the stage, a pool of red in her hands where she'd dabbed at her forehead. A medical kit was at her side, open and the other hand leafing through it angrily.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" I asked, hurrying over to her. I swatted her hand away and took out the gauze she'd been looking for.

"Do I look okay?" She asked, slightly angry. She winced as I dabbed the cut clean and placed a butterfly over it. "God damned people . . ." She mumbled angrily, feeling the butterfly for herself.

"I can't believe he'd do that." I said. "He's usually such a sweet guy. I'm so sorry. But, really Blake, bleeding from a water bottle?"

"It wasn't the bottle!" Blake countered. "I avoided the bottle, but I didn't expect the guitar to jump up and hit me in the face!" Her eyes narrowed. They were the burning brightly in the darkness. "And he's not a 'sweet guy'." She put quotations around the last two words. "We may not be friends, Kayla, but you've got to know that he's a total-,"

"How could you say that?" I asked incredulously.

"It's the truth, he's a-,"

"Not about Luke!" I cut her off. "We're not friends?"

"I didn't think so . . ." She paused. "But if we are, then I'm definitely going to tell you that Luke Grayson isn't sweet in any way, shape, or form. Maybe he acts that way around you, but he's a total jerk asshole to everyone else."

"You don't have to like him," I said quietly. "But you don't have any reason to believe that."

"Believe what you want." Blake said, pushing my hand away. "But I'll believe what I know." She picked her head up and looked around. "I have to go."

"Wait," I put my hand on her arm, which she promptly brushed off. "Please stay. I could -,"

"I can't stay." Blake said. "Early morning practice tomorrow at The Warehouse. Sorry, Kayla." She hopped off the stage and disappeared into the shadows, her hands shoved in her pockets and shoulders raised to fend off the icy chill.

Okay, so maybe it was only me who felt the icy chill, but it was only from the cold shoulder Blake had practically pounded me with.

**F.Y.I. The song if Poppin' Champagne by All Time Low. I don't own the song or anything.**


	4. Blake August, My Strange New Bestfriend

I rolled out of bed the next day unnaturally early. It was Sunday, and usually I'd sleep in and enjoy it, especially after a late night.

I finally drove myself home after spending the entire night at the field with Luke. We didn't talk about Blake or Slater for the rest of the date, which went really well. He gave me his number, and I gave him mine, and all that stuff. And then I drove myself home and crashed in bed.

Now, why exactly was I waking up this early? Whatever had possessed me to wake up this early wanted to see Blake. I couldn't help but feel a little guilty over how she'd reacted to Luke and his actions. They were a little asshole-ish, but he's not like that, right? As far as I knew.

Anyway, I pulled myself together and began to drive through town. It was small, and almost lifeless in the early morning, albeit the few people driving through for jobs. The Warehouse was on the outskirts. It was an old warehouse that someone had bought and used for their own personal use. Maybe Blake's parents bought it for her or something? When I finally arrived, it was all quiet. Silent, in fact.

At first I thought I might have misheard Blake, and that her practice was some other day. Then I thought maybe I misheard her and she said her practice was at _her house_ or _his house_ or _so-and-so's house_. I was about to leave when I saw movement behind the tinted windows, which were illuminated by the early sun, and decided to press forward.

I hesitantly knocked on the door. More silence and no noise to indicate anyone heard it. Carefully, I knocked again, the door slowly rolled open. I reluctantly stepped inside and closed it behind me. Inside, the music was loud and blaring, but not coming from a stereo. It sounded raw, unedited.

I followed to sound to the wide open area that took up a majority of the Warehouse. In the farther back-right corner was a small lounging area. A green couch, coffee table, and numerous chairs were all crowded around. There were some metal stair cases that cascaded down from the other floors and rooms. There was a kitchen near the sitting area. A majority of the space was taken up by the large beige tarp on the floor, on which stood four kids.

Slater, the boy from the bonfire, was sitting at the large drum set, his eyes regarding me uneasily. Another boy was holding an electric guitar. He had bright, red hair and bright, blue eye. His lips were set in a tight line. Not quite a frown, but nowhere near a smile. A girl with curly brown hair and dark brown eyes was holding a bass in her hands, not paying attention to me. The last was standing with her back to me, who I could easily tell was Blake. She was holding a paper in her hands and I could tell it was her voice blaring over the speakers.

"_Hold it now and watch the hoodwink._

_As I make you stop, think._

_You think you're looking at Aquaman._

_I summon fish to the dish, although I like the Chalet Swiss. _

_I like the sushi cause it never touches the frying pan._

_Hot like wasabe when I bust rhymes. Big like LeAnn Rimes._

_Because I'm all about value._

_Bert Kaemperfs got the mad hits. You try to match wits._

_You try to hold me, but I bust through."_

Blake suddenly stopped as a drum stick bounced off the side of her head. She whipped her head in the direction it came from, her glare accusing. Slater flicked his head in my direction, not saying a word. Blake only half turned, saw me, and smiled. She threw the papers in the air and trotted over to me.

"Kayla," She said in a surprised tone. "What are you doing here?" Behind her, the papers scattered across the floor and were picked up by a grumbling Slater.

"I just wanted to apologize for what happened last night." I said, not looking at her. "It was really weird for Luke to do something like that, I swear."

"If you say so." Blake scratched behind her head. She didn't sound convinced, but her gaze was adamant on the subject. "What are you even doing here? It's way early and-,"

"It's Sunday." I said quickly. "And I've got nothing to do. I was wondering if you were doing anything."

"Me?" Blake cast a sideways glance at Slater, a sly smile crawling over her lips. "Well, as you know there's a football game on tonight."

"The Patriots, of course." I smiled. I didn't know a thing about sports, but I guess watching sports with Blake sounded more fun than doing it with my dad.

"Right, well, every year, on their first game, the kids on my block get together and play a game before the Pats Game," Blake said, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Wanna come? My mom always makes way too much game food anyway."

"Sure." I laughed. "Sounds like fun."

"Awesome," Blake turned. She threw Slater a thumbs up. "Alright, so just show up at my house at this address around one." Blake said, scribbling her address on a piece of paper she pulled out of her pocket. When she finished, I shoved it in my pocket, feeling excited.

"Okay," I said, turning towards the door. "See you then."

Blake waved and turned back to the others. They were playing their instruments again before I had left the building, the paper in my pocket feeling smooth under my eager fingers.

"That was wicked, Kayla," Blake laughed, closing the door behind me as I came through the door. "I can't believe you intercepted that throw."

"Yeah, me neither." I said, wincing at the pain in my shoulder as I relived the moment for a second in my head. The feeling of pride as I caught the ball was quickly demolished by the feeling of someone pile driving my shoulder into the ground.

"Come on," Blake said excitedly, smacking my shoulder hard. "Oh, sorry, but the game's about to start!" She grabbed the game ball and ran into the living room.

"You're such a guy, Blake." I laughed, following her.

Blake was sitting on a chair, football gripped tightly around her chest as her eyes were glued to the screen. Slater was sitting a couple of chairs down from her, cheek against his hand as he continued to watch the screen. He didn't look very happy. I took a seat next to Blake, who I realized, wasn't even sitting. She was sitting back on her heels, not touching the chair.

"Blake, what are you doing?" I asked, watching her carefully.

"This is how she watches the game." Slater said, his eyes not shifting from the screen. He shrugged, a bored expression on his face. "I don't know why she gets so amped for some game of football. It's a bunch of guys in tight pants tackling each other for a ball. It just sounds like a bunch of guys who don't want to come out of the closet to me."

I couldn't resist laughing. I never really liked football, and Slater did have a point. I was surprised when Blake laughed.

"It is. That's why I watch it." Blake laughed, sitting back in the chair and kicking her legs out. "It's funny to see grown men acting like small children."

"Amused by small children, Blake?" Slater said in a sarcastic voice. "I think that's illegal."

"Funny, Slate." Blake said, chucking the football at him. It bounced off his head, causing his hand to shoot up and rub the sore spot on his temple. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Could've fooled me."

"You're just lucky there's nothing over here heavy enough to throw."


End file.
